


I Get By (With A Little Help From My Friends)

by asexualjuliet



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan Byers is a Damn Good Brother, Mike Wheeler is a good friend, Nancy Wheeler is a Good Big Sister, Poor Will Byers, Sickfic, The working title for this was “Give Will Byers a Break 2k20”, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualjuliet/pseuds/asexualjuliet
Summary: Out of all of the boys, Will definitely gets sick the most often. The combination of a week spent in hell and a serious lack of sleep ever since has definitely weakened his immune system, and Will can’t remember the last month he went without some kind of illness.Or, Will gets sick and his friends & family help him out.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers & Will Byers, Will Byers & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	I Get By (With A Little Help From My Friends)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen,,, I am So Soft for people taking care of a sick/injured Will. Baby boy is so loved and I need his friends to show him that.
> 
> Also I didn’t mean for Dustin to hurt himself,,, but he would. What a dumbass, I love him.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

It’s not like Will feels great when he wakes up in the morning, but he also doesn’t feel crappy enough to miss movie night at Mike’s house. 

Which is why he’s sitting on the couch ten hours later, wedged between Dustin and Mike, watching Return of the Jedi and feeling like absolute shit. 

Out of all of the boys, Will definitely gets sick the most often. The combination of a week spent in hell and a serious lack of sleep ever since has definitely weakened his immune system, and Will can’t remember the last month he went without some kind of illness. 

Will hates being sick. He hates the way his stomach churns and his head pounds, but most of all he hates the way everyone treats him like glass. Like he could fall apart at any moment. 

(Well, they’ve treated him like glass since he got back. It’s just worse when he gets sick).

So he hides it from Jonathan, from his mother and his friends, and it’s only when he’s sitting on the Wheelers’ couch in front of the TV that he lets it sink in just how terrible he feels. 

Will’s cold all over, shivers beginning to wrack his body. He wraps an arm around his churning stomach, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the nausea currently climbing up his throat. 

Will’s started shaking from the cold when Mike whispers, “Hey, are you okay?”

Will opens his eyes. Mike’s looking at him with worried eyes, and any other time, that look would have made Will feel so damn special, but now he can’t bring himself to feel anything but crappy. 

“Yeah, dude,” Dustin says from his other side. “You look like shit.”

“I don’t feel good,” Will admits, squeezing his eyes shut once more as Lucas pauses the movie. 

Mike puts a hand to Will’s clammy forehead. “You have a fever,” he says. Will attempts to take deep, even breaths to keep his nausea at bay. 

“Are you gonna puke?” Lucas asks from Dustin’s other side. When given no answer from Will, Lucas confirms, “He’s gonna puke, Mike, get him to the bathroom.”

“Oh, shit, okay,” Mike says, helping Will up and leading him to the bathroom. 

“I’ll get Nancy,” Lucas says, and heads upstairs, Dustin at his heels. 

Mike sits Will down in front of the toilet and he gives a weak cough. 

“I don’t feel good,” he mumbles weakly before coughing again. “I really don’t feel good.”

“You’re okay,” Mike says, “Just—just get it out. You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t wanna,” Will whines, and he’s well aware he sounds like a five year old, but he doesn’t care even a little bit. “Mike...” he chokes out helplessly before pitching forward and retching up the little he’d eaten for breakfast. 

“Shit, Will, I know,” Mike mumbles, putting a hand on Will’s back. Will lets out a choked sob before heaving again. 

“I got you,” Mike says gently, running a hand through Will’s sweaty hair. “I got you.”

Will coughs once more before resting his head on the toilet seat, which is gross, but it feels too good on his burning skin for him to care. 

“You done?” Mike asks softly from behind him. 

Will hums softly and shrugs. 

“C’mere,” Mike says, propping Will’s chin up with his hand and wiping his mouth with a bit of toilet paper. “You’re okay.”

Mike lets go of Will’s chin and Will immediately lets his head flop back down. 

“Here,” Mike says, handing him a little cup of water. Will wrinkles his nose at it but takes it, swallowing as much as he thinks he can stomach. 

Footsteps sound at the door and both boys look up. Nancy’s standing in the doorway, Lucas and Dustin behind her. 

Nancy kneels down next to the boys on the floor. “Hey, Will,” she says, “Heard you weren’t feeling so great.”

Will shrugs, and Nancy reaches out a hand to feel his forehead. 

“Oh, buddy, you’re burning up,” Nancy says, and then turning to Mike, “Can you get some Tylenol from upstairs? And a thermometer?”

Mike nods. “Yeah. Yeah, come on, guys,” he says, leading Dustin and Lucas upstairs. 

“I’m sorry you feel so shitty, Will,” she says, getting up and wetting a washcloth. “Do you think your mom would be able to pick you up?”

Will shakes his head as Nancy sits back down next to him. “She has work. I think Jonathan is at home, though.”

Nancy nods and wipes his sweaty face with the washcloth. “Do you feel any better?”

Will shrugs. “A little,” he says, before he hears the other three boys tumble down the basement stairs. 

“Shit!” Dustin screams at the top of his lungs. “Lucas, you cheated!”

Nancy sighs. “This is why you’re my favorite,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

“Mike, what the _fuck?”_ Nancy asks. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Will hears Mike argue. “Dustin wanted to race, and then…” he trails off. 

“And then Dustin smashed his face into the back of the couch?” Nancy asks. 

“I’m kinda dizzy,” Dustin observes. “Also, I think my nose might be bleeding.”

“Shit,” Nancy murmurs. “Give me the Tylenol and the thermometer and once I’m done taking care of Will, I’ll take care of Dustin.”

Will can’t help but laugh when Nancy enters the bathroom again. “This is why you’re my favorite,” she says again. 

“Nancy!” Dustin screams from across the basement. “I thought I was your favorite!”

“What the fuck, Nancy, it’s obviously me!” shouts Mike, and the boys dissolve into bickering. 

Nancy rolls her eyes before turning back to Will and holding out a thermometer. “Can you take your temp?” 

Will nods and takes it, putting in his mouth and letting Nancy take it when it beeps. 

“103.2,” Nancy says, “That’s a hell of a fever you got there, buddy.” She opens the bottle of medicine beside her. “Would you be willing to take some Tylenol or do you think it’d upset your stomach?”

Will shrugs. “Sure. I feel a little better, I guess.”

“Good boy,” Nancy smiles, measuring some of the medicine out into a little plastic cup. “We’re out of the pills, hope you don’t mind this cherry crap.”

“Thanks,” Will says, when Nancy hands him the cup, and he drinks it in small sips, careful not to make himself sick again. 

“Let’s get you back to the couch and I’ll call your brother, okay?” Nancy says, offering Will a hand. 

He takes it and she helps him to the couch, giving him a pillow and laying a blanket over him. 

“Dustin, is your nose still bleeding?” Nancy asks, before looking to the boys. There’s blood all over Dustin’s shirt, and he’s currently tilting his head back, trying and failing to stop the blood with a wad of tissues. 

“Hey, don’t do that!” Nancy says. “Shit, Dustin, you’re supposed to tilt your head forward, not back!”

Dustin appears to think about that for a second. “Are you sure?” he asks, and Nancy sighs. 

“If you choke on your own blood, don’t come crying to me,” Nancy says, and starts up the stairs. 

Dustin thinks about that for another few seconds and tilts his head forward. 

“You okay?” Mike asks, sitting down next to Will on the couch. 

“I feel a little better,” Will says. “Still not good.”

“That sucks,” Mike says. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Will smiles. “Thanks. You should get away from me, though, I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mike says with a smirk. 

_“Mike,”_ Will sighs, fighting a smile. 

“Shhh,” Mike says. “You should sleep.”

“It’s 6:30,” Will points out. 

“Shhh,” Mike says again, faking being asleep on Will’s shoulder, and Will smiles. 

He _is_ awfully tired, and a little sleep wouldn’t _hurt._

So he leans his head against Mike’s shoulder and drifts off to sleep. 

—

Everything is too hot when Will wakes up. It’s like the whole goddamn world is on fire, and it’s so damn hot Will can barely think. 

There’s someone beside him, Mike maybe? 

“Are you okay?” the someone beside him asks, and the answer is no, but Will knows that if he even opens his mouth to answer, last night’s dinner will come spilling right out. 

“He’s turning green,” someone else observes, “Dustin, get a trash can or something.”

It’s too _hot_ and Will feels like _shit_ and also he’s going to throw up _right fucking now._

Someone thrusts a wastebasket under his chin right before he gags, and someone else rubs circles on his back. 

“Shit, Will,” the someone Will has deduced is probably Mike says. 

“Will, Jonathan’s here for you!” someone calls from upstairs. Will lets out a sob before retching again. Someone holds his hair back. 

Footsteps come down the stairs and someone lets out an “Oh, shit.”

Will looks up with bleary eyes. Nancy and Jonathan stand in front of him. Lucas is next to him, holding his hair out of his face. Mike sits on his other side, hand on Will’s back, and Dustin holds a small trash can in front of him. 

Will takes in the situation in front of him, then lets out a sob and dissolves into tears.

Mike keeps rubbing his back. “Hey, you’re okay,” he says, “We got you, Will, you’re okay.”

“I wanna go home,” Will mumbles. “I don’t feel good, I wanna go home.”

“C’mere, buddy,” says Jonathan, taking Lucas’ spot beside Will and pulling the kid into a hug. “You’re okay,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Will sniffles and wipes his eyes. “‘Kay,” he says, feeling too shitty to care that he’s acting like a baby in front of his friends. Jonathan helps him up and they go up the stairs, slowly but surely, Mike and Nancy right behind them. 

“Feel better, Byers,” Mike says before wrapping Will in a hug. 

“You’re gonna get sick,” Will warns him, but Mike just smiles. 

“I’ll be fine,” Mike says again, and Will can’t help but smile back. 

“Bye,” he says, as Jonathan helps him outside and into the car. 

“How you feeling, buddy?” Jonathan asks, getting in on the drivers’ side. 

“Bad,” Will answers, curling up into himself and closing his eyes. 

“That sucks, I’m sorry,” says Jonathan. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick again?”

Will hums. “Not right now,” he says, and then adds, “Can you tell Nancy I’m sorry for getting sick while she was in charge?”

“Nancy’s got two little siblings, bud, I’m pretty sure it’s not her first rodeo.”

Will shrugs. “Still.”

“Do you wanna play your mixtape?” Jonathan asks, ready to pull the cassette tape out of the glove compartment, but Will just shrugs. 

“No thanks,” he says. “My head kinda hurts.”

“I can give you some Tylenol when we get home,” Jonathan says, willing to do anything to get the little boy beside him to stop hurting. 

Will makes a face. “Nancy gave me some and I threw it up,” he says. 

Jonathan winces and puts a hand to Will’s forehead. “Shit, Will, you’re burning,” he says, and Will sighs. 

“Nancy says 103.2,” he informs Jonathan. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, starting the car. “Feel better, buddy.”

Will nods and closes his eyes again, and within minutes he’s asleep. 

—

Jonathan carries Will into the house and lays him down on the couch, trying hard not to wake him up. 

Will’s eyes flutter open anyway. 

“Hey, bud,” Jonathan says. “You need anything?”

Will shrugs. “‘M kinda cold.”

 _Kinda_ is an understatement. Will is shaking, body wracked with chills. 

Jonathan wraps a blanket around his brother. “Good?” he asks.

“Good,” Will confirms. 

“Do you think you’d be able to take some meds?” Jonathan asks. “I think it’d make you feel better.”

Will shakes his head. “I don’t wanna throw up again,” he says. 

“Alright, but if your fever gets to 104, I’m making you take some.”

“‘Kay,” Will says, eyelids drooping. 

“Go to sleep, okay?” Jonathan says. “Mom will be home soon.”

Jonathan starts to leave the room when Will says “Wait,” and he turns back. 

“You okay?” Jonathan asks. 

“Can you stay?” is Will’s response, and just looking at the wide-eyed little boy on the couch, Jonathan knows he could never say no. 

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “Yeah, of course I’ll stay.”

So he climbs onto the couch next to Will, lets the kid lean on his shoulder and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. 

Will is fast asleep in a few minutes, but Jonathan stays where he is. 

And when Joyce gets home to two boys on the couch sporting matching fevers, she just smiles, leaves them where they are, and goes to make two bowls of soup. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> All mistakes are my own, please let me know if you see any!
> 
> Kudos/Comments are greatly appreciated!


End file.
